


Catharsis

by brokenamethyst



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenamethyst/pseuds/brokenamethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The families are visiting once again and sometimes things, like poison, just need to come out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: One-Shot. Takes place Post-DethDad. I wrote this without the aid of a beta all mistakes are my own. Any mistakes please feel free to bring it to my attention by leaving a comment or message! As always feedback is always welcome
> 
> Disclaimer: Brendon Small owns all rights to Metalocalypse. I am not making any money from this nor am I attempting to claim intellectual property not my own. 
> 
> Wordcount: 15k

Catharsis

 

 

 

It was time for the families of the most powerful musicians in the history of the world to make their bi-annual visit. Mordhaus was in a state of panic and in between making sure that the guests rooms were accommodated a suitably far enough distance away from the band’s own quarters, without being in Alaska as Pickles suggested ---repeatedly. The Gears and Charles had their hands full on top of preparations with keeping the band from drinking themselves into oblivion or a liver transplant while also blocking numerous escape attempts.

It had been a hellish two days but fortunately Charles had had the foresight not to give them the weeks’ notice he had had of the exact date of the families intended arrival. Finally the Dethcopter had landed and with an ominous _clang_ the centuries old imported castle doors slammed shut after the families made their way in.

The band stood in front of them awkwardly in the hall, with Offdensen and five Gears blocking any attempted retreat. Stella was seated on her scooter clad in a large bright floral print muumuu and had been glaring death at Murderface from the moment her rascal came to a squeaky stop.

 Serveta toyed with her hair and attempted to make doe eyes at the muscled Gears roaming the halls. Anja stood corpse-like and frigidly silent with thenoticeable absence of the Reverend by her side the air seemed colder around her and the Gears nearest her fought consciously not to shiver. Molly toyed with the non-existent dirt on Seth’s cheek, tending to him gently with a handkerchief and Seth basked in the attention after shooting a smirk towards his brother.  Rose stood in the center with her hands perched on her wide hips, the lumpy cellulite conspicuous through her bright pink spandex.

“Well? Aren’t you boys gonna greet us” Rose stared expectantly at her son as they all grunted and fidgeted.

“Welcome, to our-uh place, or whatever” Nathan grumbled, the scowl on his face portraying no such welcome. With a backwards glare at Charles promising retribution and receiving a completely unconcerned raised eyebrow in return, the front man stomped his way into the living room with the intentions of getting well and truly drunk. The rest of the band followed suit with their families at their backs.

The Klokateers were having a hard time making sure that Nathan’s and Pickles’ glasses were never empty and that Skwisgaar was delivered new strings as he snapped them from his frenetic playing. They also had the unpleasant task of making sure Stella had plenty of snacks and that her husband didn’t ride his scooter into the Jacuzzi in a half-cocked suicide attempt. The grabby hands of Serveta were constantly wandering to the pert and muscled asses of passing Gears and only with a swift interception from Charles were a guitar-induced bloodbath avoided.

“Look what do you guys get paid? I’m telling ya to unionize, of course with me as the head, all you gotta do is sign this contract and all of your payroll will get routed through me. Come on I got connections, Hell ahm the fucking head of Dethklok Australia, I know what ahm talkin’ about. You have to sign, not that that’s a threat or nothin’.” Seth smirked having cornered a passing Gear who was desperately trying to signal to Offdensen for assistance.

“Ah, ladies and gentleman, how about you all -- ah retire to your guests rooms to get refreshed from your trip? There are baths and mini-bars included in each suite of course.” Offdensen announced after eyeing the dangerous reddening of Pickles face that usually heralded an impending fratricide attempt.  He made a quick text to his second in command to set up an immediate audit of Dethklok Australia’s finances and hire a permanent independent accountant.

After all of the family was corralled off by attending Gears, with a heavily pregnant female escorting Serveta as one never could be too careful with a Skwisgelf. Charles looked over the boys sprawled about the couches.

Nathan was still attempting to intimidate him with a bleary eyed drunken glare which might’ve been more effective if it weren’t directed six inches too far to the left of where he was standing. Pickles was balancing his attention between his inhaler and his neon green and faintly glowing combination of liquors and probably hallucinogens. Charles stared with narrowed eyes at the cocktail.

 He discretely sent a message from his cell to schedule a doctor’s appointment and to have a donor liver and kidneys on standby as his eyes moved on to Murderface who had been busy mutilating the couch and muttering about “giant bathtubs” and “making it look like an accident”. Charles sent another text to station a guard near Stella’s suite. Skwisgaar’s playing had finally slowed down to his normal fretting but his face was still overtaken by scowl.

 Charles looked up finally from his phone after making sure that the harem of women sent to Skwisgaar’s room that night would be either infertile due to age or on medication.  His gaze rested on Toki, who had seated himself on the far couch and had remained silent for the entirety of the initial greetings. For a moment he feared that the man had once again gone catatonic as he had done during previous parental visits. The noticeable difference however was that whenever the young man had “checked out” his face would just be passive, blank--- almost serene and that wasn’t what Charles had seen.

Toki had a look of abject misery. For a moment Charles nearly forgot himself and considered giving the young man a hug but his common sense as well as the most likely severely counterproductive and never ending jeers of “gayness” that would result brushed aside the momentary weakness. Murderface’s transparent assertions of Charles lusting after his “man-meat” would have been more than enough to drive him to drink. Charles could wait until t he could catch the young alone before any undue shows of affection could occur. Toki, out of all of his boys was the least insufferable. Not to say he hadn’t contemplated taking a hammer to his skull like the rest of them but he might hit him just slightly softer.

Settling back into the business at hand he addressed all of the men in varying states of self-destruction.

“Ah, listen, I know that you all don’t enjoy these visits” he paused at the resulting braying, slurs and drawn out ‘pfft’ a la Skwisgaar, “But understand that it’s better to condense these visits as group vacations and to only twice a year rather than deal with each of your parents one on one several times a year.”

Pickles sat up from his drug induced slouch “Come ahn man! We’re freakin’ rock stars; One of the biggest economies in the world and the five wealthiest men in the history of EVER! And yet we still have to put up with visits from our freakin’ families!?!! What kind of bullshit is that?” Charles stared impassively at him as he sent a message to move up the doctor’s appointment and to have an OD crash team ready as he eyed the severely sporadic flushing and paling of the drummer’s skin.

 “Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying. Unless you’d like me to make them disappear, which is possible but I doubt any of you would take your family issues that far--- and it’s not an option for you William.” He added before Murderface had a chance to open his mouth.

“I would much rather have them where we can monitor them than have a group of jaded families getting together to write a tell all book about embarrassing little childhood secrets that would portray you as, ah –“unmetal”, as you would say. Or a PR campaign to smear you as selfish pricks that’ve turned their backs on their families once they made it big. Though we have a certain amount of _influence_ on the media, there are still those that would find the temptation of having a scandalous story plopped in their laps too tempting to ignore.”

Charles fought a smirk of satisfaction as the band grumbled but let the issue drop. “Now that that’s settled, I need you boys to get cleaned up, Pickles you have an appointment in the infirmary and Toki I need to see you in my office.”

“Goods luck with dats! Toki is Carta—catsa- Awake-sleepsings like he always does.”

“ _Catatonic._ And _w_ ell actually Skwisgaar, Toki has been very much awake and alert this whole time. Just quiet and I need to talk with him.”

“Actuallies, I don’t want to do much talking Charlies.” Toki said quietly from his seat curled up in the corner of the coach. “I’d much rather go stays in my room rights now but you says we aren’ts allowed.”

“That’s right Toki, your families will only be allowed in Mordhaus for two days and will be leaving tomorrow night. However you will have an appointment with Twinkletits after they depart.”

“I don’ts want to sees a gotsdamned psychologist every time I get sad or angry Charlies! I just want to go in my room and takes a fuckin nap.” Toki was animated for the first time that day showing emotions that consisted of more than misery. That anger was his next choice didn’t reassure Charles at all.

 “Well I’m sorry Toki but since your little concert indiscretion your visits to Twinkletits are non-negotiable.” All of his band mates paled at the memory of Toki soaked in blood and rage looking quite like a forsaken Pagan god of war.

He had been a demon in those moments of unfiltered brutality. His canines bared and digging into his lips with furrowed brow and maddened blue eyes. An animal reveling in the thrill of the kill and the howl he had let lose upon being herded away with the rest of the band by Charles and the clean-up crew still echoed in their memories.

It was hours of work for Charles  that night to get the situation under control and under wraps. There were a lot of memories to be “adjusted” and one poor sod’s complete identity to be wiped from existence. Considering the fact that his face was _gone,_ it hadn’t been too much trouble disposing of him.

 His instructions to the crew that night had been explicit, what happened that night _didn’t happen._ He oversaw the destruction of the bleeding skin sack of broken bones and ruptured organs Toki had left personally. Nothing had been left to chance as the resultant scandal would have been catastrophic or worse _career ending_.

The next morning Toki had seemed to be back to normal during the tense band meeting in the conference room except that he was far too relaxed he was in fact practically elated.

 He had the look of a man who had just feasted after years of malnourishment;

Of one reveling in the first sweet breath of air after diving deep in water.

Of a celibate’s first orgasm.

The weight that seemed to be visibly lifted from his shoulders and the very satisfied gleam in his eye concerned him. What brought everything to a head for Charles was not that Toki didn’t notice the sideways looks his band mates were shooting him but that he didn’t notice because he was too busy eyeing the muscled Gear guarding the door. With a sinking feeling in his gut Charles realized that Toki was sizing him up _._

Sweet, little naïve Toki.

Disturbingly childlike and an easy target for his band mates teasings.

  _Toki_ , who still slept with a stuffed toy.

 

  _That_ Toki was about to start preying on the Gears.

 

 

Charles had screamed at Toki for the first time ever in memory and then immediately sent him to go see Twinkletits. Toki didn’t leave the psychologist’s office for almost twelve hours and when he finally did leave he was silent with red eyes and stained cheeks with a prescription nestled in his pocket.

By the ten-hour mark they had each found themselves drawn to the doctor’s office to wait. Toki left the office without a word after passing Charles his prescription almost twelve hours after he entered it. They let him go off to his room undisturbed. Twinkletits left the room, voice hoarse and looking for once haggard and professional. “I think he’s going to be okay, but it’s fortunate that he was sent to me right away. We needed to nip _that_ particular line of thought in the bud immediately.”

They all stood awkwardly around the hallway before Murderface haltingly spoke “J-Jeeshus. Family really fucksh you upsh huh?”

Charles had looked at William and had seen a less opportunistic human being who actually _was_ capable of concern for his band mates or at least the most vulnerable member.

 “Isn’t that the truth” he had muttered before they all left off to put the day behind them

 

 

“You know why Toki. It was stupid of me to let what I knew to be severe emotional problems fester like they did. But we will _never_ have an incident like that again even if I need to I’ll march you down to Twinkletits’s office myself. Understood?” Charles eyes were the closest they ever came to soft as they looked at the young Norwegian curling in on himself on the couch but his jaw was set.

“Ja, Charlies.”The miserable look was back and Charles mentally cursed.

“Good, Now that we have that settled all of you take a shower and change into _clean_ clothes. As usual first night visits involve taking your families out to eat. That means going out in _public_ so please limit your drinking and --ah familial violence. Play nice and the visit will be over before you know it and as long as there is no significant damage done I’ll schedule you all for a week-long vacation. Somewhere sunny-“

“With ahn unlimited supply of booze!”

“That’s ah, provided that you don’t kill your brother”

“Andsh loosesh wemon!”

“Ja, but’s its not like you’d gets any no matter how loose dey are wit your uglies mug.”

“Fuck you Skwishgaar! You fuckshing blonde asshhole!”

“Be leavings my hair out of dis you troll!”

“You know what, you’re right. I’d hate to inshult my dear shweet Serveta! After all Sherveta Murderfacshe gotsa nicesh ring to it.”

It wasn’t known whether it was because Murderface very vocally wanted to sleep with his mother or because Skwisgaar’s mother was just slutty enough to agree to marry William (for his money of course). The fact remained that it took three Gears to help Charles peal Skwisgaar’s hands from around William’s throat.

 Charles ushered the boys out of the room to get ready and, fighting an impending headache, made his way to the office where he poured himself a healthy measure of brandy, ignoring the paperwork he had yet to do.

 

 

The dinner was as horrible as everyone expected.

 

They had arrived at the fancy restaurant late after a harrowing trip on the Dethbus that Rose once again insisted that Nathan drive. She shouted over the screams of pedestrians some drivel about it meaning more that they are driven around by their sons and how it’s a _bonding experience_. It was a miracle that Charles was able to get traffic control to divert cars and red lights but even so the Klokateers would have to hose off the pedestrians that didn’t cross the street fast enough.

The restaurant, while elite and expensive, had an understated air about it that set the tense band the slightest bit more at ease. The felt it bad enough that they’d have to spend the night choking down food near their families  with no need to make it worse by being surrounded by food snobs. The kind who in the past had always stared at them wondering how a group of hobos managed to sneak in.

 The tables were draped in crisp clean linen and spaced sparingly around the room so that none were too close and the raised booths had sliding doors for privacy and  big enough to hold twenty people. The floor of the place was a deep red and plush enough that the temptation to remove their shoes and bury their feet in it was strong, but as none of them were very meticulous about cleaning their feet, except possibly Toki and Skwisgaar, the decision was unanimous that shoes stay laced up. The place had curtains of maroon and black support pillars but the gentleness of the lighting kept it from being too dark and oppressive.

 Trust Charles to find one of the only “metal” high end restaurants.

The food was tender and elegant, the salmon cooked to perfection, the pasta sauce light and buttery, the steak seared wonderfully. All the food was perfect for the now refined tastes of the band members.

 

Their families’, however, were not.

 

 After the third instance of Stella demanding a hot dog, even while munching her way through lobster, the waiter threw his hands up and had the cook throw together a couple of chopped up bratwurst in with some pasta sauce and tortellini. When he handed it off to her and she grumbled about no ketchup Pickles heard him muttering in French about “an uncouth sagging pile of anal pus” and almost snorted his Bordeaux out his nose.

Nathan trapped between both his parents, periodically made Pickles kick Murderface in the shin when he zoned in on his grandmother and the hunks of half chewed food littering her mouth and bright orange muumuu.

“Oh Nathan, do you really think you should be eating so much food? Why look at that tummy sweetie. Still love those chips I suppose. I remember leaving a bag lying around when you were one and coming back and they were gone! Why I don’t think you even had teeth then. But look at you, such a fine handsome man if only you’d trim that hair of yours…” Rose continued on despite the deepening growl emanating from her son and the flex of his hand about his steak knife when she patted his “tummy” with coos of how it rolls and how no one wants a chubby hubby or a hubby that couldn’t find his chubby for that matter. Her cawing laugh at her own joke flowed over the low muttering of everyone in the booth as Nathan began to tremble with the urge to vomit blood.

Serveta was nestled on the other side of Oscar and quirked her loose ruby red  lips as she whispered in his ear that “Reals voman has no problem finding husbands ‘“chubby” ”.

 Discretely, but not really, she stroked her long red  nails down his shirt, tracing around his belly button before sliding her hand under the table cloth to stroke his groin, feeling him grow thick and long against her hand and down his pants leg. He breathed heavily against her neck as she stroked him against his thigh. Skwisgaar, who could see all of this happening; gagged in disgust, pushed his food away and began frantically fingering the frets on his Gibson.

Toki barely managed a few bites of his pasta as his mother steadily gazed at his face with that same impassive yet judgmental look she always wore. He soon placed his fork down and gently signaled for the waiter to take it away so he could stare at the still crisp white linen of the table as the cacophony of his fellow dinner guests buzzed around him. More than anything he wished that he could drift off into the white cloth like a stain.

 

Serveta’s hand had finally drifted to unfasten Oscar’s pants when the cheery voice of Rose rang out around the booth. “You know, Oscar and I met in high school and have been married for almost fifty years now. A real dreamboat he was, star of the football team and built like a tank. Just like my little Nate!” she paused to squeeze Nathan’s cheek. “But you know, being so popular, there were always girls flitting around. Why in my heyday I had to fuck up more blonde cheerleaders with hand problems than I can remember and while I may be a bit out of practice one never forgets the finer points of stomping a hole in someone’s ass.” She finished sweetly, her apple-pie baking mom’s voice at odds with her words.

Serveta shifted closer to her son while he pointedly ignored everything going on around him. Nathan quickly scribbled in a messy scrawl “song idea: the finer points of stomping a hole in someone’s ass” on a napkin before returning to his half a cow worth of steak.

Pickles had just finished his “dinner scotch” and was just about to order a “dessert vodka” when Charles walked into view behind the waiter with an eyebrow raised. With a grunt he ordered another wine. The constant chatter from his mother about how well Seth was doing and how he was really shaking things up in the company and how it would only be fair for Seth to be made an equal partner with the rest of Dethklok was very close to sending Pickles into another asthma attack.

“Listen little bro, Ahm making changes. Big changes. See you gotta work on your marketing; the problem is you’ve got too many people handling it, people that don’t even care about it like I do. Look we’re family and family gats to stick together.

 So I’m saying, make me head of marketing like **everything** for Dethklok. Of course I’d have to get a big pay raise and like an early sign on commission, I’m thinking a two million dollar advance to start cause ya know I got like expenses, mouths to feed and shit. Lay off those other assholes because like I said, we’re _family_ bro and ya know you have to…” Seth continued laying out his demands for a job that he was neither qualified for nor was going to get; but his words kept buzzing in Pickles head over and over on a loop. He didn’t need to look at him but he could see the smirk, the shifty threat in his eyes and his mother’s doting smile as she put in her two cents about his “duty to the family” and “loyalty” and just how _fucking good_ of a job Seth was doing.

Pickles poured himself another glass of wine from the bottle the waiter had finally just left next to him, with a French muttered “Fuck It”. He brought his hand up to rub at his brow, shifting his piercings, the glint catching his father’s eye as he nursed his tenth beer.

“You know I should’ve known you’d grow up to be a pansy.” Calvert spat. The silence at the table was immediate and deafening as Pickles pulled his hand away from his brow slowly to look at the heavily sloshed Calvert.

He was deathly silent.

 Whether Calvert felt the tension at the table and just ignored it or whether  he was just  used to saying whatever he liked when it came to his youngest son regardless of the company and didn’t think there was a problem was known only to him but once he started he was on a roll.

 “Always clinging to your mudder’s skirt when you was a kid and more likely to be bangin on those damn pots in the kitchen than goin’ outside and tossing a ball around. Pffsh and that gay little band you called yourself running off to join “Trouser Snakes” shoulda fuckin known then. Hell I told all my buddies that I got just one son and a limp wristed daughter when I saw those fucking pictures of you.

 Eyes all glammed up, wearin’ a bitches top and spandex. And that devil’s red hair, you got from who knows where, grew out like a damned woman. Shoulda known you’d be a damn fairy. A damned deviant ya are, with deviant behavior!  I shoulda known you’d be a freak when you burned down the damned garage. A damned fire pervert. I told you once before and I’ll tell you again you belong in a fucking garbage can!” Spittle flew from Calvert’s white froth cornered mouth and his beer sloshed on the table.

 No one moved when Pickles flew at his dad, not even when the resounding crunch of a broken nose sounded over the dim silence that had fell over the entire restaurant as Calvert’s rant rose in volume.

“Pickles!” Molly shrieked while Seth jumped out of the line of fire. Pickles slammed his fist into his father’s face three more times before, with a restraint none of the band knew he had, getting off of the man sprawled on the floor with a bloody face and reeking of spilled beer. Molly helped to sit Calvert up and wiped at his bleeding face while he stared in shock at his son, who for all of his short stature was seemingly a giant towering over him.

Chest heaving and face flushed a darker red than his hair, Pickles was the epitome of rage.

 “You…” he panted “You never could hold your fuckin’ liquor. That! That I should’ve done twenty fucking years ago! I belong in a garbage can? You belong ina fucking garbage can you worthless piece of shit!”

“You’ve done mediocre at best with your life and when you die no one will remember your fucking name!  I’m part of the most successful band in the history of the fucking world. My band has its own economy and what the fuck do you have? That pathetic fucking house that even after working yer whole life, you still couldn’t afford? Still needed me to pay off the fucking bill in full when I hadn’t lived there since I was sixteen and yet ya still have the balls to call me trash?!

I am your ONLY accomplishment in life and that’s because you and mom didn’t do shit in raising me. I don’t fucking need you. I don’t need ANY of you. But you all fucking need me.

 Always harping on ‘bout what Seth has done. He’s done fucking nothing! He’s a fucking sociopathic ex-con dependent on his parents to survive. He wouldn’t have shit but a room above the garage and a wife and kid he can’t take care of if I didn’t _give_ him that job you’re so proud of that he’s neither qualified to keep nor fucking earned.

 I belong in a garbage can?! I was always jealous that you all loved Seth more but you know what? Fuck him and Fuck you because you fucking freaks deserve each other. I’m a fucking Trillionaire bitch, so you all can kiss the entirety of my pasty-white, freckled, red haired Irish ASS!”

 Pickles stood taller than he had in years and walked out of the booth but as he reached the door he fired off one last parting shot at his stunned audience.

 “And by the way it was Seth that burned down the fucking garage. I was six you dipshits I couldn’t even work a fucking lighter.” And then he was gone to wait in his bedroom on the Dethbus.

After his departure, Charles quickly ushered the rest of the guys back onto the tour bus, paid the tab, tipped the waiter and threatened the manager.

 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

 

 

Pickles had been the first person off the bus. He had his bong lit and his beer popped before the echoing slam of his bedroom door had faded. Skwisgaar was next and had no less than fifteen women sent to his room as well as a case of Vodka and ecstasy. The sounds that emanated through even the thick slabs of concrete alerted the “Post-Slut Clean-Up Crew” (PSCUC) that not only would everything need to be replaced but the room would need to be bleached and sanitized.

Nathan staggered to his bedroom to fall into a red-meat and beer induced fart stupor; a usual Friday night occurrence. Murderface wandered off to irritate Knubbler and Calvert was sent off to the infirmary, Charles’ official instructions to the doctor were for him to professionally reset Calvert’s nose but that there was no need to waste money on any pain killers.

 Toki and Anja stood in the hallway until the urge to flee his mother’s suffocating presence was too much for him. With a softly spoken and respectful “God natt, Mor” he fled to the comfort of his room.

Anja stayed behind and watched his retreating back until he turned a corner impassively before a Gear pointedly escorted her to her room. The rest of the parents left to get re-acquainted with their suite’s mini-bars.

 

 

 

_His skin had been stiff from cold but sagging from age and illness like a discarded animal pelt tossed in the snow. He could feel every rib through the coarse and simple fabric of his night gown and his soured puffing breath against his face was unpleasant._

_But it was the first time he had felt his father’s touch without the sharp bite of a whip or belt immediately following._

_His steps had been sure footed on the climb, the years spent in the over indulgent care of the Gears slipping away and bringing him back to memories of tiny feet, either bare or clad in rudely crafted pelt skin shoes, sifting through the cold snow feeling out solid ground and loose rocks._

_His grip on his father had been strong but careful not to bruise. And the door was there, the house he remembered fearing for it meant that even when his father tired of extending the lash his uncle, even in his old age, would be there to take his place. Beatings went on for hours in that house. The phantom pain of years of beatings spread across the patchwork of his back but he still took each step carefully up to bring his father home for his passing._

_He swore it was ice, it had to be, because suddenly his father was no longer in his arms but gliding back down the mountain to fall and crack through the lake._

_He had scraped his fingers bloody trying to get to him, he would’ve dove into the icy blackness to get him but Pickle was pulling on him and saying something and he just wanted to get him out. He could only watch as his father’s eyes rolled up into his head as he began to sink below where the darkness seemed to rise up to take him._

_He had screamed, he had raved and cried._

_“It’s my fault! I killed him, I killed him! Father! Father!” he had screamed his voice raw as Pickle cradled his head to his chest. His shirt smelled of weed and the cold wind but he said his name softly and he swore he felt drops of foreign wet warmth drip onto his face but it was already so wet he couldn’t be sure. But he had screamed and begged and his body shook and Pickle kept murmuring that it wasn’t his fault._

_But it had to be._

_It had to be._

_He had held him so tight during the walk. His steps had been so gentle and sure. He had carried far heavier loads since he was six. He had him and he wouldn’t have let him fall, but when he saw that door, that door he feared almost as much as the entrance to his punishment hole… he felt it. He felt that numbness of self sweep over him and suddenly his arms were empty._

_He was so empty._

_He was guilty._

_For that brief moment he’d forgotten his forgiveness, he forgot the weight in his arms and he’d even forgotten his own name. It was there and then it was gone and he knew that there was a part of him that wanted his father dead, that wanted justice for every scar he bore on his body. A part of his subconscious that was angry at himself for ever uttering the words “I forgive you” to his father._

_Only a second and it was gone._

_And his father was gone too._

_And he truly couldn’t remember if he’d dropped him_

_Or if he’d let go._

_And even now he’s not entirely sure if he wants to know the answer._

The red light from his alarm clock glowed the three o’clock hour in the dark gloom of his bedroom. He had been staring at the light off and on in between every time he tossed left or right on his bed trying to find a comfortable place to sleep.

Insomnia and night terrors were frequent nighttime companions. And the three am face of his clock was a common companion. But the eyes of his mother seemed to haunt him in the gloom but it was the photo of his father that finally drove him from his bed. The foreign weight of food shifted noticeably in his stomach as he staggered desperately to the bathroom as burning bile laced a hot trail up his throat.

He’d continued to clutch the rim of the toilet even after the little bit of food that felt like poison rolling around in his stomach had painted the bowl. His gagging persisted until the clenching pain in his stomach drove him to the floor. The floor tiles were cool to his face and comforting to his stomach where his shirt had ridden up.

He’d drifted in and out as he stared at the pristine base of the toilet. His hair curled over his cheeks and hands as it draped against the black tile. His breathing shifted the strands gently and he thought that he could just lay here on the floor until the end. End of the visit, of Dethklok or time. It all melted in his head as he laid there for a long while.

He could stay there until morning but Charlie would eventually come knocking and one of the last things he wanted was to see was the disappointment on his manager’s face were he to find his rhythm guitarist, curled up on the bathroom floor with a toilet full of vomit and tear stained cheeks.

The last thing he wanted was to be alone right now.

He dragged himself up from the ground and cleaned off in the shower, brushing his teeth and changing his clothes before quietly leaving his room.

It was a quarter to four in the morning and the hallway was dark and silent. Skwisgaar used to tease him when they first moved into their newly constructed home that he would need a security blanket and someone to hold his hand when he left the room at night. But to him the dark was actually welcoming, it was open with a constant flow of air from the high ceilings and he could hear everything that was at least three halls away.

 He had no problem with the dark, or being in a large place alone; he had a problem with being stuck in a place that he couldn’t get out of, of being in a dark place where the air hangs thick and still like it did in the punishment hole.

 No, he was not afraid of his home where the thick plush carpet nestled his feet and softened his bare footsteps to a whisper and where the cold stone slabs felt comforting and strong beneath his work roughened fingertips.

Toki felt slightly better outside of his room but the weight of loneliness and the guilty whispers of his memories echoed in his chest and head as he padded softly down the hall past Nathan and Murderface’s doors to stop at Pickles’.

Far too often when he couldn’t sleep or the nightmarish memories of his childhood drove him from his bedroom he would make his way to Pickles. He was never turned away when he truly needed it and more often than not when he just wanted companionship Pickles would just make room on the bed for him to curl up. When he truly needed to talk he would put aside whatever he was drinking or smoking, or share it, and let him talk until whatever had upset him was all wrung out.

He hadn’t asked questions the first time he came knocking on his door not long after Mordhaus had been built either.

……………………………..

 

 Pickles had been reading a book when Toki had opened the door chest heaving face flushed and pupils blown. He hadn’t made a move towards him or tried to speak but had just calmly patted the bed when it looked like Toki’s was close to fleeing from the room. He had dove under the covers and nestled as close as he dared to the drummer as he desperately tried to get his breathing under control. Pickles had looked at him and started to stroke his hair as he continued to turn the pages of his book. Toki had shakily slid his arm across the drummers slightly paunched belly before holding him tightly, his fingers gripping both his side and the pillow and Pickles just let him, continuing his gentle movements while his eyes moved over the page.  Before he knew it he had drifted off to sleep to the gentle whisper of turning pages.

In the morning Toki awoke feeling humiliated but in the relaxed way that Pickles had about him he had shrugged the event off. When the same nightmare drove him from his room again that night, his feet automatically carried him to Pickles. That time, after he had calmed down, he began to talk---hesitantly at first but growing in strength as he continued and received no reprisal.

 He had vivid dreams, the product of relying solely on his imagination as a child to mentally survive his daily torments. But with vivid dreams came vivid nightmares and sometimes he’d find himself trapped in his own head unable to feel where his body began or ended and what was real and what wasn’t. Since most of his nightmares were memories or mutations of memories he’d further found himself trapped by the fact that the things he’d dream of were real and had happened, the problem came when he couldn’t remember that they weren’t **still** happening. And that was what happened.

_He had been trapped, back in the cellar._

_The manacles had bit into his wrists from hours of being suspended by his hands. Blood, thick and slow had made its way down his arms to join the rivers flowing down his back and spine. His Father had been particularly miffed that morning when he discovered the old mule used for bringing goods to and from the town fifty kilometers away dead on her side. He had immediately pulled Toki from the pallet they let him sleep on, those few times he was allowed to sleep in the house, by his hair. His pleas and questions of what he did wrong fell on deaf ears as he was pulled passed his mother, who stood with eyes narrowed in judgment, and out the door into the cold Lillehammer winter barefoot and in tattered clothes._

_The cold bit at his feet and bare calves and the wind blew right through the thin and worn cotton of his t-shirt but he knew that where he was headed the cold would be the least of his worries as the ground door to the basement cellar loomed. He dug his feet in the snow and weakly tried to resist the strong pull of the worn but muscled hand that engulfed his tiny arm, he knew he shouldn’t, that it would make it worse but for the first time in months he had not feared freezing to death should he fall asleep and was even permitted a small salted herring with his bread so his stomach didn’t ache as much. He didn’t want his one moment of bliss to end in pain._

_His father’s black robes swished about as he whipped around to smash his fist into his face. The pain blossomed across his skull and his mouth filled with blood from the harsh split of his lip. His small body went limp in the snow from the shock of the blow but, as it wasn’t the first time his parents had struck him in the face, he managed to stay conscious as his father continued to drag his body through the snow by the arm._

_The blood from his face left little blooms in the snow where it dripped and he had just enough time to dazedly think that they looked like “fringed pinks” blossoming in winter before, with a creak of the heavy aged oak doors and a grunt from his father, he was flung down the stone steps of the cellar._

_The wide white sky was framed by the doorway and had seemed to fall away from him slowly as he  fell stone corridor before he landed, with a pained grunt and agonizingly sharp clack of his teeth, on his back on the wet cobble stoned floor of the cellar._

_The light from the door bathed him even as he stared up at the dark and angry face of his father before he pulled the heavy door back down overhead seemingly to shield God’s light from him. He tried to pray to God in his head, to beg for forgiveness and mercy for whatever he had done to bring about His wrath through the vessel of his father’s hands but found that he was feeling dizzy from the two blows to the head and the warmth from the blood that oozed out of the large cut on his scalp both sickenly warmed his skin before it froze thick and sticky to his face._

_He focused on his father’s bootsteps as he descended the stairs and the clink and slide of the whip as it was slipped from its hook. He listened as his father started to recite scriptures detailing his crimes. The one’s committed against God. The transgressions of his birth and his continued sinful existence. He listened as his father secured the manacles about his wrists and used the pulley to hoist him up until only the very tips of his toes touched the floor and the burn of the stretch in his shoulders made black spots dance behind his eyes._

_His father twisted him around and pinched his face in his hand as he directed his gaze to ice blue eyes so like his own. He could feel his fetid breath about his face and hear the gnashing of his teeth as he told him to repent for his sins against God and for dishonoring his father by stealing the life from his mule. His soft denial earned him a slapped to the face just the same as his silence would have._

_As his father turned his back to the wall he told himself that he wouldn’t cry.  As his father’s boots walked away before turning sharply once he was in position he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t scream. And as the sound of the whip, as it was pulled back, whistled in the air he begged for God to save him._

_He did cry._

_He did scream._

_And God was dead._

_The crying and the screams and the crack of the whip weren’t loud enough to drown out the vibrating crescendo of his father’s hymns as he sang of the coming of the lord, the love he had for his children, and the power of his just wrath on the sinners. He sang and he sang and seemed to still be singing when Toki jerked up in his bed, with his shirt and face plastered in sweat and his hair strewn and tangled._

He had been confused and dizzy with vertigo at the dissonance between his adult height and that of his eight year old self. He stood in the dark, shaking and sweating until his eyes found those of his father bathed in the red glow from his clock and looking like the wrath of God or an agent of Satan if he still believed in either. He was frightened like he hadn’t been since he was a child at the mercy of those much larger than him. He needed out, out of that place and its closed darkness and the angry eyes of God looking at him.

He fled from his room and from the eyes but he still felt like his back was being ripped apart all over again. He was shivering in the hallway and all he wanted was to feel warm again, to feel comfortable and before he knew it the echoes of his knock against the door had vibrated through the hall and he was pushing his way into the warm room before he could remember where he was.

 

Pickles, who had set the book down on the night stand as he had told his story, reached over and turned off the light before laying down to wrap his arms around him. His body had twisted and curled until Toki was sure that he had to have more limbs wrapped around him than Pickles could possibly own. But he was snug, firmly wrapped up in the tentacle-like embrace of the drummer with his face pressed against the warm bare chest that had the gentle smell of light sweat mixed with the sweet flowers and cloves from the bong hit he had done earlier in the night.

 It had the same effect as swaddling a newborn, he felt safe, warm and loved, like he was back in the womb snug and free of pain. The blood warmed skin felt comforting to his face and the steady thrum of his heart, of _life_ , beneath his ear kept him grounded. Pickles didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to say anything. He had already given Toki what he hadn’t fully realized he needed.

“Pickle?” he had murmured to which he received an accented hmnn in reply.

“I didn’ts hurts the mule. I loved her. She never nipped at me like the hound did. Buts my loves is poison to everythings.”

 

“Toki. Yer father was wrong, dead wrong. And if he ever tries to touch you again, he’ll just be dead and that’s a promise from me. Me and the guys may have this no care policy but we do care about you. We fucked up by not knowing how much you needed to hear it. They probably won’t ever say it but ahm gonna; You’re important to us. You’re important to Dethklak, and though we may pick on you, we’re not gonna let anyone else fuck with you, you got that?”

 

“Ja, Pickle.”

“Good now get sum sleep”

“Pickle, yous da bestests.”

“ _Tackk,_ Toki.  Did I say dat right?”

 

“Close enoughs Pickle, close enough” he giggled as he nuzzled under his chin and drifted off to sleep.

 

 

…..

…..

…..

He stood outside Pickles door and hesitated a moment before twisting the knob.

 

There was literally a sea of bottles and broken glass littering the floor. Pickles laid on his back in the middle of the bed in nothing but his white briefs surrounded by pills and still smoldering joints.  Toki felt a spike of fear run through him as he quickly but carefully picked his way across the floor to the bed.

Pickles face was flushed and his brow was furrowed as Toki gently shook him awake, heart still pumping quickly in his chest. He almost sank to the dirty floor in relief when Pickles opened his bleary blood shot eyes, squinting from the brightness of the lamp.

“Pickle? Pickle is yous alrights??” Toki asked frantically

 

“Hmm? Ohh heeeeeeyy. T-Toki! Yous hava nother nightmare?” Pickle slurred, still fairly drunk and feeling the effects of the numerous opiates he had consumed.

“Ohs Pickle what have yous done to youselfs?” Toki said as he took stock of the full chaos of the room.

“That fuckin family man! They’re like vampires, they keep suckin and suckin until either they’re full or yer dead! I can’t stand it” Pickle ranted  as his eyes glazed over as another pill dissolved in his stomach and flooded his blood stream.

“Yous in bad shapes Pickle. Looks at me, its Toki!”

Pickle looked confused at the brown haired man holding him before the effects of the drugs wore off. His high tolerance for drugs was both a blessing and a curse. Pickles was still drunk but whatever mystical creature he had been chasing in his head had since flown off for now.

“Heya Toki.”

“Yous okay there Pickle? Don’ts takes anymore of dem pills ok?”

“I’m good, I’m good. But I don’t think ahm in any shape to help you tonight kiddo. Sahrry” Pickle sighed and did seem genuinely regretful that his damn near professional drug use had actually been a hinderance for once.

“Don’ts be sillies Pickle. Yous have bad times of it but Toki will makes you better!” Toki said cheerfully though it was mostly forced because inside he felt a solid hunk of ice sink into his gut. But he was worried about Pickle and wanted him to focus on getting some rest instead of taking care of him. “You nots goings to be doing the OhhDeeing ares yous? Do I needs to gets Charlies?” Toki was still concerned with the flushed state of the drummer’s face and the sweat that beaded off  his skull.

“Nah, I’m good. Haven’t seriously OD’d since ’87, I know when I’m about to and don’t play around with that shit.” Pickle said through a yawn.

“Okays” Toki said before lifting the drummer up off the bed and over his shoulder ignoring his surprised yelp as he took the cover and whipped it from the bed sending the pills and joints and empty bottles crashing to the floor. After swiping down the bed sheet and fixing the pillows he gently laid Pickles down on the bed before laying the cover over him and tucking him in up to his chin. Pickles, who had more pills dissolve in his stomach, was once again fading in and out but had will enough to thank Toki as he snuggled further into the blankets. Toki went into the bathroom for a wet cloth rag.

“Yer a good man Toki” he muttered as Toki gently wiped his face and brow with the cool cloth, voice muffled from the blanket and almost asleep. Toki leaned over him, brushed some of his dreads off his face and behind his ear, before softly kissing his now cool brow. The warmth from his lips fully calming the drugged out drummer and finally allowing him to give in to the sweet pull of sleep.

Toki watched him as he rested, more peaceful than he had been all day, before setting about cleaning up the room. It was even later by the time he finished but Pickles room was spotless. Toki contemplated crawling into bed with him but felt that Pickles needed time by himself. The aching loneliness was once again shifting through him and the lump of ice in his stomach that the manual labor was able to distract him from was back. Quietly, Toki padded out of the room leaving Pickles alone to sleep.

Once more in the hall he was at a loss for what to do. The loneliness was crushing his chest and he could feel the shakes starting again as he began to pant for breath. He was contemplating finding Twinkletits when he heard the rhythmic _thwack_ and _twang_ of metal strings scraping against the fret board. He turned his gaze further down the hall towards Skwisgaar’s door where the slimmest glow of light snaked below the doorway. Toki made his way to the door with his heart throbbing in his chest but the cold chill in his stomach and the shakes that still wracked his limbs made him knock on the door. There was a pause in the melodic fretting during which Toki twisted the handle and let himself in.

The room was white.

Very, very white. Whiter than memory because everything had been bleached to kingdom come and all that couldn’t have had been replaced with an exact copy. The drapes moved stiffly from being fresh from the package. The spartan dressers appeared to be fresh from the factory. Even the large screen television had the sharp smell of fresh from factory plastic. The dark floor shown from the astringent cleaners and the air held the faintest hint of bleach but was further dulled by the open window.

Skwisgaar sat alone at the foot of his bed on the pristine white faux fur cover. Toki released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. It had been a fifty-fifty chance that the harem of women would still be strewn about the bed and floor like discarded tissue but it appeared that Skwisgaar wasn’t in the mood to share his bed. Toki felt nervousness crept back on him once more at the thought and the longer Skwisgaar stared at him.

 

“H-Hellos Skwisgaars.” Toki mumbled

“Whats yous bes wantings  littles Toki’s” Skwisgaar said in his usual bored tone as he went back to fretting .

“Dids you knows that Pickle is high rights now?” Toki asked stalling for time.

“Pfft. Pickle ams always high, Tokis. Nots big news bang” Skwisgaar rolled his eyes as an edge of annoyance crept into his voice.

Toki heard it too and knew that within the next few minutes Skwisgaar was going to grow bored of the intrusion into his room. “Yeah, buts he’s _really_  high right now. I wanteds to sleep with hims tonights buts I cant’s… but- sos I comes to asks you if I can sleeps with you tonight?” Toki paused in his garbled plea as Skwisgaar did a pretty good impression of a fish with the way his mouth was gaping and a chameleon from the rapid way his face was going through shades of red and pale.

“Justs because Pickle is high out of his mind and isn’t offering his ass, you thinks you could just waltzes in here for a crack at mine!?” Skwisgaar’s eyes were narrowed and his face had finally decided on a shade of livid red.

“Huh? What’s Pickle ass have to do with anythings? I always goes to Pickle to sleeps when I has de bad dream times but now Pickle needs to sleep off his night and I don’ts be wantings to disturb him .” Toki said head tilted and confused by Skwisgaar’s sudden change in attitude.

“I-I sometimes can’ts be alones or I starts with the overthinkings and it gets hard to tell the difference…” _between what’s real and what isn’t_ was left unsaid between them but Skwisgaar understood. He still has to fight the shivers every time he saw Toki without his shirt off. He could still remember the rage and nausea that assaulted him the first time they all sat around in the hot tub together shortly after moving in.

……..

They had just moved into the Haus and they had all agreed that they needed to christen or anti-christen the new hot tub. Toki had only been in the band for a few weeks and was still in a state of culture shock at the idea of premium cable television and had been reluctant to come into the tub.

After a few threats, the youngest member had pulled off his shirt and the rest of the guys tried to discretely either hold their beer guts in or sink lower into the water as they spotted the ripped abs, chest and arms of their little rhythm guitarist. When Toki turned his back to unfasten his pants, they had all let out notable gasps of horror and disgust as they viewed the patchwork of whiplashes that had covered the boy’s back. Many of the scars had begun fading into ragged and obviously, once severely infected, scars but even more still had the glossy shine of the freshly healed over and couldn’t be more than a few months old.

Toki, in that child-like way of his, splashed down into the bubbling water with a giggle and wrangled the tv remote from Pickles limp hand. He didn’t notice the looks of dark rage that had overtaken each of his bandmate’s faces as he settled on a Japanese anime with lots of fighting and robots. No one asked him about the wounds on his back, each terrified of being called unmetal for caring for the little goofball, but they each afterwards always felt a moment of shame for not having the balls to ask.

 Eventually Charles came into the living room to update them on their tour schedule, and took one look at the wreckage of Toki’s back, narrowed his eyes in rage before gently telling Toki that they had more paper work to go over in his office.

With much whining , Toki had dragged himself from the tub and dressed and grumbled his way out into the hall after Charles before the murmured promise of ice cream if he answered the questions truthfully was met with a gleeful _“Ja!”._ They left a tub full moody and silent band members behind.

 

………

 

“Sos can I stays the night with you Skwisgaar?” Toki asked, bringing Skwisgaar back into the room. The lead guitarist finally stopped his fiddling with the tuning on his guitar only to face away from Toki again to absent mindedly strum.

“Yous relies on Pickle too much littles Toki.” He said snappishly

“At least he be havings my back when I need him, Skwisgaar.”

“Don’ts bes gettings snippy withs mes.”

“I’s not. Just tellings de truths. Pickles usually makes everythings better.”

“Whens he nots blazed out of his minds you means.” Skwisgaar snapped back

“Yeah” Toki deflated the stirrings of anger in him on behalf of his friend. He turned to leave the room as Skwisgaar leaned his guitar against the wall and reached for the light.

“Gets in de beds Toki” Skwisgaar muttered as he stripped down to his briefs and curled up in the fur of the blanket.

Toki quickly scurried under the covers before Skwisgaar had a chance to change his mind.

 

_‘Skwisgaar has no shame’_ Toki thought uncharitably as he gently extricated himself from under Skwisgaar’s arm. Skwisgaar had fallen asleep quickly but Toki was still wide awake even after an hour of tossing and turning. His bandmate, so used to having the bed to himself or sharing it with people who would gladly enjoy having him lay practically on top of them, had spread out over time and grasped him in his sleep. Toki slid further away from his bedmate whose fingers flailed before he huffed in his sleep and turned over.

Toki stared at him. The light from the moon had begun to fade but still shown into the room from the large window. He blushed as he stared at the shirtless torso of his bandmate, the cover had slipped down to his hip and the shine of his nipple ring stood out sharp from the puckered pink buds. His chest was smooth and a tad too skinny but still beautiful. Skwisgaar’s face was soft in sleep in a way that it never was when awake especially around other people and Toki found that he couldn’t stop staring. He wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked or if they’d be firm like the rest of him.

Toki’s face immediately slashed down in a frown as he thought about what his father would think of him, sharing a bed with a known nymphomaniac and admiring his sleeping face. His stomach roiled as a wave of nausea hit him at the thought of what his _mother_ who was sleeping less than a mile away would think. Her easily imagined look of revulsion was almost enough to drive him from the bed. He turned his back to Skwisgaar and squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the images of not only his father and mother but of his band mate lying nestled in white fur with the moon bathing him in its fading light. Sleep was far in coming.

 

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Toki woke to the greatest sensation he ever felt of having a warm pressure pressed between his thighs gliding gently against the sticky head of his cock.

The flesh of Skwisgaar’s throat smelled of a pleasant mixture of light sweat and his over-priced shampoo. During the night they had both curled around the only other source of living warmth in the large bed. Toki had curled over him like hugging a giant deddy bear with his face nuzzled against his throat. Their legs had tangled with the weight of Toki’s hip pressing their thighs tightly against swollen cocks. Skwisgaar’s hand was nestled deeply into his brown hair and he had a hand gripping tight across his lower back his pinky finger slipped slightly below the waist band of Toki’s sleep pants.

Petal soft skin left traces of salt lingering against his lips from where they were pressed into Skwisgaar’s throat and the heavy hot heat of Skwisgaar’s cock had slipped out of his briefs and up Toki’s t-shirt where they were pressed together. Skwisgaar’s cock head rubbed against each bump and crevice of his abs, his hips building a steady grind as each thrust pulled the foreskin back and pressed his sensitive tip against Toki’s sleep warmed skin.  Toki laid frozen on top of him and stared at his sleep thrusting companion, his cock harder than he had felt it in his life. His hands felt hot and sweaty where they gripped Skwisgaar’s waist and thigh and he didn’t know where to put them and yet felt too scared to remove them. What felt innocent yet intimate in sleep became seductive in waking and still Skwisgaar was grinding into him with his sticky pre-cum slicking his belly button and dripping onto the inside of his shirt.

Guilt and desire warred within him and as Skwisgaar’s hands moved to grip his hips to grind harder, Toki’s cock throbbed. His whole body was a tense pillar of desire and guilt as Skwisgaar ground their bodies together away in abandon. Toki’s eyes stared at his hard nipples and the sweat that had begun to bead down his stomach as he slowly lifted his chest off of him. Skwisgaar’s cock tented Toki’s shirt as he lifted away and Toki’s hands clenched against the mattress to keep himself from stroking the cock of his sleeping friend. He pulled his shirt up and off of the cock gently. Skwisgaar let a moan escape his lips as his cock slapped against his stomach thick and red and dripping copious amounts of precum down the shaft.

Toki felt his chest burning and with a jolt realized that it was him that was panting, the sound filling the room so loud that it was a miracle that Skwisgaar was asleep. His mouth watered and his arms trembled at the urge to touch his bandmate in all of his intimate places. He was already under him twisting in pleasure with sweat plastered hair and reddened cheeks. Their legs were still intertwined and Skwisgaar’s hands still held onto his hips with a strength no sleeping person had the right to have. Toki’s pants were tented and soaked through at the tip and all he wanted was to slip his cock from his pants and press it against Skwisgaar’s. To take them both in hand and stroke until they only knew how to scream each other’s name.

To climb onto Skwisgaar’s chest and slip his cock between his puffy lips and see just how talented his tongue is. Or to slip lower and press into a place far more intimate. Toki’s body stiffened at the thought of actually having _sex_ with his bandmate. His body stopped its hard thrusts it had started without his permission and Skwisgaar’s fevered panting reached his ears. Toki looked at him again.

His body was a sweaty mess. Face flushed a dusky red down to his chest and his cock dripping a steady sticky stream of cum down  to pool on his stomach. His legs had untangled and wrapped around Toki’s hips and his fingers dug into hips hard enough to leave bruises. Toki’s crotch was nestled tight against his still brief clad balls and his fingers had tightened on Skwisgaar’s thighs that trembled and shook in his grasp.

He gently released his thighs and pulled away from him, not stopping until he was fully off the bed despite Skwisgaar’s legs tightening around him trying to keep him exactly where he was. Skwisgaar’s groan of “No” as he twisted in the sheets followed him out as he closed the door behind him and ran to his room.

Before the door fully closed with a click he was in the bathroom.

The slick splat of come painted the toilet before his pants hit the floor.

By the time the automatic light flicked on he had slumped down to his knees.

The tears of guilt for what he had done slipped down his cheeks by the time the flush washed the evidence away.

And the bile had raced up his throat as he cried out apologies.

By the time he was finished screaming his sins into the toilet bowl he couldn’t remember if he was apologizing to his parents, to God , to Skwisgaar.

Or to himself.

 

 

 

They were all seated around the living room doing what they did best, annoying the shit out of each other. The visit was thankfully over and Charles was directing the Kloks to load up the Dethcopter with their stuff for the return trip, and also go through their luggage for stolen items and incriminating photos.

He managed to keep an eye on the proceedings while also paying particular attention to possible shitstorm that was brewing in the living room.

 

Pickles appeared to have recovered from his hard bender the night before and ignored his family completely despite Molly’s varying attempts to either scold or cajole him.  Seth had shiftily attempted to have his “friends” in Australia shift some funds off shore in the very likely event that he would find himself without a job.

Murderface continued to mutilate the coach as Stella groused on and on about how nice it would be to be set up in a home similar to the room they had stayed in as opposed to the “rat infested shit volcano” he had dumped them in. Murderface thought about reupholstering the leather couch with her skin.

Serveta had been ready to leave hours ago after it became apparent that no employee was willing to die at the hands of Swisgaar or Charles just for the chance to have sex with her. Her back still bore the bruise from when Rose’s fist “accidently” found its way onto her spine as she was getting off the bus from the restaurant. Suffering from violence and a distinct lack of cock, she wouldn’t be visiting again for awhile.

Charles had just started to relax at having had a visit without major incident when Anja Wartooth sat down next a very pale Toki and said in perfect accented English “I ask your forgiveness.”

Silence struck the room immediately, the parents looked on in nosy boredom and the band in a rising sense of fear. Like Pickles with his father, everyone held still to wait to see what would come next.

Toki raised his gaze from the floor and blinked almost owlishly at his mother. He pulled himself quickly off the couch and whipped around to face her. Everyone tensed but Anja stayed seated serenely gazing up at her son with sharp eyes in her withered face. Toki’s mind raced from thought to memory and back again and he absentmindedly wondered if his chest would burst from how hard he was breathing. Unconsciously he reached up to rub the back of his neck in confusion before stilling as his finger tips touched the waxy tightness of a whip scar. His blood pounded through him and his neck hurt from the throbbing in his veins as his face grew red as a white hot fury lanced through him the likes of which had previously caused him to kill a man.

Toki could see Charlie as he shifted unsteadly by the doorway  but as he  began to pace he could only focus on the heat his own skin gave off as if a demon lay nestled beneath his skin   waiting to split through and shed him off and break and rend and tear apart the woman who birthed him. He made it halfway across the room trying to put some distance between him and temptation before he whirled around and snarled “No.”

“No. No _No **NO**_! How… How _dare_ you ask me that!” He sputtered tripping over his own tongue that laid thick and heavy, coated in the acid he wanted to spit.

“You let _him_ do whatever he wanted to me! You helped him! If I hadn’t run away you sick freaks would have killed me! What makes you think that anything you say, any apologies you have can make up for _this!?”_

He tore his shirt off over his head and heard Rose Explosion gasp. His back and sides shone in the harsh florescent light. Every tight and discolored scar stood out starkly against his pale skin. There was barely an inch of untouched skin left on his back where the scars dipped below the waist of his pants. Scars piled on top of scars, some faded with age and many still sharp as if they were just freshly healed. It was all grotesque yet Anja stayed seated her demeanor still unbothered even while her son stood breathing harshly in front of her.

“How can you ask me to forgive you for this?”  Toki said quietly “How can you expect anything from me after what you did? What you helped him to do? You were my mom you were supposed to be protectings me!

I remember running away after Father beat me so bad I couldn’t see out of one eye. Hiding in the forest in shorts and bare feet in the middle of winter. Head sticky with blood and dizzy. Then I heard singing, the loveliest voice I’d ever heard and then you came gliding through the forest in your thick robes like a goddess come to save me. Beckoning me to come out of hiding. When I did, you touched my head so gently I cried. I remember pressing my face to your robes and how safe I felt wrapped up in you. It was the only time I could remember being touched with kindness.  You gently guided me back to the house where Father beat me unconscious.

I was six years old. And over and over you’d bring me back after I’d run away and each time I’d pray that you’d save me ,you delivered me to him. I hoped that I would die before you would come looking, singing to me like a siren to come home. And like the idiot I was I’d keep coming to you because at least I got to hear you sing and you’d touch me with gentleness for a few minutes before sending me to another beating.

Because I loved you on some level.

But I hate you so much I can’t stand it.

There is no forgiving you for what you did because your betrayal hurt more.”

 

Silence once again descended on the room aside from Toki’s frantic breathing. His arms were trembling whether from fear or anger was anyone’s guess. They all looked towards Anja and watched as she smoothly rose from the coach crossed the room and struck Toki hard across the face. Her face transformed, as ugly and gnarled as that of a Fury. The sound of grinding teeth rose as she bared them at her son.

 

“You are an abomination before God. A hellspawn! You were a burden from the very start , a black mark brought into our lives. The Reverend and I were cursed with being barren from the very start of our marriage. We prayed daily for a child, to the angels to come bless us with a child. It wasn’t an angel that answered our prayers but an agent of the devil himself.  I became pregnant in my eighty-ninth winter. I knew something was wrong from the start and prayed for the Lord to take this burden from us but my prayers went unanswered because I had been sullied by the devil’s touch and you were born in my ninetieth year. We thought that perhaps it truly was a blessing because you were a perfectly handsome baby with all of your fingers and toes but then the animals became sick and died. And at night your eyes glowed redder than the fires of hell! You are a monster come to Earth, the devil’s will made flesh. It was only the conflict of faith that stayed my hand from strangling you in your crib.

My dear Reverend in his strength smothered you with a pillow but the next morning you were up and awake begging to be fed the milk from my breast. It was then that we knew that if we couldn’t kill you it would be our sworn duty as true followers of the faith to beat the devil out of you and brand you with God’s love. As time wore on and you grew it became apparent that there was no saving you, that you turned away from God’s light and stole the life from all of his creatures through your demonic version of love. We prayed that God’s wraith brought down upon you through our hands would be enough to break your body and send your evil soul careening back to the bowels of hell but you continued to live and grow.

We were so relieved when you finally fled the farm for the last time and looked forward to spending the rest of our days together in peace but then the Reverend, bless his soul, was struck down with cancer and we settled in to wait his last days but still he continued on living for years in excruciating pain despite doctors predicting him to not make it through the night. We knew it had to have been a curse from you. That your hate kept him alive and in pain and only through you loving him would he find  peace. We allowed you to learn of his illness and encouraged you to come see him and just as expected you killed him.  And now it is time for my due. I am well over a century old and yet still my tired body continues to work even with age. I await to be released from my mortal shell and welcomed into heavens glory with my husband but I cannot as long as your hatred continues to keep me trapped here. I ask that you give me death as it is your nature, hellspawn.”

By the time Anja stopped snarling Toki had curled himself into a ball on the floor his fingers tug deep into his hair nails pressed into his scalp until it bled. The room again hung in horrified silence before Rose Explosion crossed the room and cracked Anja hard enough in the face that she lost several of her blackened rotten teeth.

 

“You sick twisted bitch! The fuck is wrong with you!” The blood from Anja’s cheek and mouth dripped from her clenched fist onto the floor. “None of us are perfect parents, far from it actually and have all fucked up our babies royally. That includes me and my habit of over parenting Nathan which led both he and my husband to resent me. Perhaps the only perfect mother was Momma Murderface because she was willing to _die_ to protect her child from harm. We all have our flaws, some more serious than others, but I have never been more disgusted of a person than I am of you. If longevity is the punishment you’ve paid for the torture you inflicted on that boy then it is still less than you deserve. So maybe you should practice what you preach and bend your head in fucking supplication and take it. If you ever raise your hand to that boy again then  I swear on everything I hold dear that I will beat the fucking shit out of you.”

Rose turned away from Anja as a group of Kloks dragged her out of the room  and curled her arms around Toki and gently rocked and shushed him. “Easy there Toki. Even if you are Death made flesh it doesn’t matter because I’ve never met anyone as pure of heart as you. Everyone who has died because of you was saved from the pain that wracked their bodies. Even if your love brings death you’re a real live Angel of Mercy even for the undeserving. Your guitar teacher, the little wheelchair girl and the cat had all been extremely ill and in pain. You released their souls with your love and affection and freed them from the pain of their bodies.”

Toki turned his head away his teeth bruising his lower lip before Rose gently but firmly turned his face around to her.

“You released your father’s soul from the pain of his body even though he was the least deserving of all for your love. It is my sincere hope that if there is any justice, Karma or God that your father is right now in the deepest bowels of hell roasting while impaled with the Devil’s angry red spiked dick buried so deep up his ass he could taste it in his mouth.” She wiped his cheeks and cupped his face between her hands

“Everything they taught you was a lie. Let it and them go.” She gave him a kiss on the forehead and stood up. “I think we’ve all bothered the boys enough for one visit” she announced.

Charles nodded his head in agreement before escorting them onto the Dethcopter.

 

After the sounds of the Dethcopter carrying the families away faded everyone left the room. Toki was brought to Twinkletits but was let out after five minutes. He went to his room and quietly closed the door. The rest of the band and Charles stood around feeling angry and useless.

“Sometimes it’s best to just give the mind time to sort through things without having to talk it out. He doesn’t need me right now. But there are to be no locked doors for him.” Twinkletits warned.

 

By the time night fell everyone closed themselves off inside their rooms. Toki tossed and turned in his bed for an hour before there was a soft knock on the door. Skwisgaar came in and locked the door with a soft snick.

“….Swisgaar?”He murmured

He moved about the room taking in the tacked up drawings and model airplanes before moving to the wall with the staring photos of the Reverend and Anja and silently taking them down from the wall.

“Budge over Tokis” he said as he pushily made Toki make room for him in his bed.  “Pfft. Multi-Trillionaire Rock Star sleepings in de littles kid bed.”He complained.

 Despite the snark Skwisgaar gently moved Deddy Bear to rest in between them as he nestled under Toki’s chin and tangled their legs together. He wrapped his arms tight around his torso pressed his hands flat against his shoulder blades feeling every uneven ridge and dip of scar tissue through the fabric of his shirt.  “There will be no more bad thoughts and tonight will have only quiet dreams.” Skwisgaar said firmly.

Toki’s smile trembled but he nodded  and wrapped  his arms tightly around Skwisgaar’s shoulders. He nuzzled his blonde hair breathing in the scent of lavender and honey before drifting off to sleep content.

 

 

 

Charles narrowed his eyes from the salt spray kicking up from the beach. It wasn’t in particular his favourite place to vacation, sand never did sit well with him and with the heat he was almost guaranteed to swelter in his fine suit and peel on the tip of his nose.

 No, Charles didn’t like the beach.

The overgrown twelve year olds he called clients however were as happy as a pig in shit. Charles narrowed his eyes as he watch Nathan and Pickles tandem wrestle  in the surf with two scantily clad ebony women with huge breasts that lunged as if they had a gravity all their own.  Rolling his eyes he searched out Murderface just in time to see him loudly proposition a beautiful statuesque island girl collecting shells on the beach.

Charles could barely hear Murderface ask the girl to use her pretty mouth to slobber on his hog then ride it but had no issue seeing the crude hand gestures he used to get his point across assuming that her silence meant she didn’t speak English rather than her just finding him repulsive. Charles quickly made his way to intervene when a tall woman in white face paint, who appeared to be the girl’s mother, quickly walked up to Murderface and threw a white powder in his face.

William wheezed before freezing stiff as a board. It took Charles thirty-minutes to negotiate a considerable amount of money in order for the woman to release Murderface from his zombified affliction. He also set aside a large amount of money for the woman’s daughter for the sexual harassment she endured. All from Murderface’s account of course. He even gave the woman a business card, a smart businessman after all could always make good use of having a Hoodoo Queen on the payroll.

With one crisis averted and a new business relationship formed he looked around the beach again sparing a glance towards the red and black beach tent Skwisgaar was currently hiding in before moving on.

 

Toki had been playing volleyball with some local youths. After a few hours however he wanted to play in the water. Waving goodbye to his new friends he slipped into the tent Swisgaar had been hiding in for most of the day. Skwisgaar, nestled in thick puffy black and red pillows on the floor of the tent, barely looked up from his magazine.

“Hi’s Tokis”

“Heya Skwisgaars! Come playing in de waters with me!”  Toki bounced on his heels raining bits of sand down at the entrance.

“I don’ts be likings da suns Tokis. I have no interests in lookings like de lobsters at the end of the days.” He snorted

“Then puts on de sunscreens lotion likes I do, I’ll even put it on yous back for you!” Toki whined

“Yous be the only one who evers gets tanned while de rest of us burns up.” He scoffed, but Toki had just enough time to feel worried as he saw a glint in Skwisgaar’s eye before he said “ I’ll go play in the water with you after you put some sunscreen on me but I need to be completely covered.”

Toki stopped dancing in place as Skwisgaar quickly whipped off his swim trunks and laid down on his stomach. Toki swallowed as he stared at his pale muscled cheeks exposed to the air and the line of his back nestled in the pillows.

“Well? I thought you wanted me to play in the water with you Toki?” Skwisgaar stared and his gaze was not kind but challenging “Or are you just going to run away from me again?”

Toki froze, an ocean of noise crashing in his ears louder than the one outside. The conflict of voices in his head sounding frightening enough like his mother chanting “abomination” and “sinner” nearly making him flee. His hands yearned to touch and caress his body even more than the night he slept in his bed but the voice is loud and Skwisgaar is staring and he’s being torn apart.

He was just about to turn around and leave the tent when the voice battering his head told him to “Let it go”.  It sounded like Rose Explosion.

And Skwisgaar was still challenging him.

And he was tired of running away.

 

Toki grabbed the lotion from Skwisgaar, kneeled on the pillow next to him and told him to lie flat, he didn’t recognize the huskiness of his voice. Apparently Skwisgaar didn’t either as he twisted around  to look at him until Toki pressed his callused hand between his shoulder blades and pressed him down into the pillows. He squirted a glob of lotion into the middle of his back and continued to hold him down as he squirm from the cold. Each breath of air he pulled in felt thick and sweet.

Toki laid his hands on the small of his back and firmly pressed his fingers up his spine, roughly kneading the tight muscles until Skwisgaar let out an involuntary groan. Silently Toki spread the lotion all across his back pressing his fingers deeply into the muscles until they loosened and became putty in his hands.

Skwisgaar shifted his groin over the pillow trying to stop the embarrassing noises spilling from his mouth but Toki dragged each bliss filled moan out of him like he was mastering an instrument. He hit a particularly painful knot between his shoulder blades and Skwisgaar’s loud yelp was muffled by him pressing his face into the pillow. However he couldn’t hide his euphoria as Toki spent five minutes working it out. He panted into the damp pillow his limbs trembling as if he’d run a mile and his groin thick and heavy pressed into the pillow below him. He heard the cap flip open again but instead of the cold splat against his skin he heard the lotion being rubbed quickly between hands before he felt his left foot lifted and the instep worked until he was once again writhing weakly on his pillow, the hard buds of his nipples scraping against the fabric and sending little jolts of pleasure lancing up his spine.

Toki worked both legs up to his thighs before swinging his leg over Skwisgaar’s. He wet his hands again and then finally began to work the globes of his ass. Sweat dripped down Skwisgaar’s face and his hair stuck wetly against his cheeks as rough hands worked his ass soft and loose. He couldn’t help pressing up into the hands exposing hints of his pink hole underneath or groaning as the slick thick fingers continued to ignore it despite swiping tantalizingly close. Toki pressed him back down as he moved his hands down his thighs, his thumb pulling tight circles between his thighs as he pressed his hands up. Skwisgaar moaned out his name as he felt the swipe of thumbs pressed against his squashed testicles and moved up to work his taint.

 Limbs trembling and cock leaving thick smears of pre-cum all over his pillow he let out a grunt of frustration as his attempts to get Toki’s fingers to press inside him went ignored. Finally Skwisgaar swore and attempted to turn onto his back to get some attention to his front. He hissed as his hip came in contact with the thick outline of Toki’s cock still pressed painfully tight against the fabric of his shorts.

Just as Skwisgaar was ready to drag Toki down for a kiss and reach to pull Toki's cock out of his shorts, damn the foreplay, Charles walked by the tent.

“This country has very harsh laws on public indecency. While I’m thrilled that you’re getting along the paperwork for dealing with an international incident is not my idea of a good time.” He said pointedly as he walked away.

 

“Fucking Robot!” Skwisgaar shouted at him as he flopped back into the pillow. Toki climbed off his legs but stroked his fingers through Skwisgaar’s hair in an almost reassuring pat before retrieving his swim trunks  for him to cover his nudity.

Skwisgaar grumbled the whole time he got dressed but Toki couldn’t keep the dopey happy grin off his face.

“Are you ready to be goings to play in the waters now Skwisgaar?”

Skwisgaar looked at him as if he were crazy before shaking his head with a rueful grin. Only Toki could shift from hot arousal to playfulness in less than a minute while he himself felt ready ruin his swim trunks if he so much as moved.

“Nopes.” He smirked

“Bu-but you saids that you would goes playing with me if I puts de lotion on yous!”

“Ja, I’m gonna stay relaxing here but thanks for de massage” he winked

“I’ves been playeds! You just wanted a free massage!” Toki wailed outraged

“Yep, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you giving me another mores privates one in da hotels room. I’ll show you just how much I appreciate it.” He ran the tip of his tongue across the seam of his lips and watched in amusement as Toki blushed down to his neck, his eyes unconsciously settled on his ass before whipping away.

“Ja, I-I’d woulds like that Skwisgaar.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” He grinned.

Toki silently stared at him before he too grinned with a mischievious glint in his eye.

“You knows, only de pussies wilch on agreements. Though I’ll still take you ups on your offer tonight, you dids agree to be playings in de ocean wits me.”

Skwisgaar paled seeing the intent on his face and tried to scramble away but Toki caught him about the waist and easily hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Toki!! Yous stupids bastard!” He squealed as Toki took off running towards where Nathan, Murderface and Pickles were playing in the surf.

He spluttered curses in Swedish as Toki dived into the sea and swung him about in the water.

 

Charles watched from the shore relaxing on a beach chair under an umbrella and nursing a brandy. He chuckled as Nathan splashed Skwisgaar making him yowl like a wet cat as they all began a water fight . He could think of worse things to do than to lounge around with a snifter of brandy from a good year while making sure his five idiotic charges didn’t drown themselves in the Caribbean Sea.

 

 

 

 

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m glad that I finished this fic as its been rolling around in my head for awhile now. It came about from a binge re-watch of every episode of Metalocalypse including Doomstar and there were just some things that insistently made me want to write again. Toki and his dynamic with Skwisgaar was a major muse for me but also his rage inducing relationship to his parents. I loved the episode of DethDad but the “I forgive you” never sat well with me. This fic was a way for me to work my feelings out as well as a flashpoint to get myself writing fic again.  
> I also wanted to thank those who’ve read this fic and especially nettieeitten (http://nettieeitten.livejournal.com/) for his headcanon fanart of Momma Murderface  
> (http://capslokdethklok.livejournal.com/2145141.html#t32430709) which started me thinking about parents and relationships. Then of course Ice Cry (http://icecry.tumblr.com/) whose rendition of the Dethklok parents and kidlit bandmates were what I pictured when I thought of how their relationships progressed with the exception of Anja. My take on her remains decidedly dark.


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